Issue 143

Winter & Spring 2013

Poetry Molly McCully Brown Poetry Molly McCully Brown

After

The girls in the parking lot behind the Chevron have just

smoked their first cigarettes, and were not clumsy at it.

Each one assumed she would be: that she would fumble

with the lighter, struggle just to get the tip to flame,

then drag too deeply on the thing between her fingers.

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